Never Meant to Be Part Three
by teecrushfic
Summary: Part Three of a quartet of stories, plus epilogue. Complete. AU, angst, suicide attempt, character death. Not cheery or fluffy. Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy are meant to be...aren't they? Then why, why, why does it never work out? Ever?


**Never Meant To Be – Part III **

It was his 22nd birthday that night. A group of people from work were taking him out to a pub nearby that they frequented, a place where he was known.

Well-known.

Known almost every night, as a matter of fact.

He was a favorite of the bartenders, because his needs were simple, he was quiet and left large tips. A fresh bottle of scotch – opened in front of him – a corner stool, and a clean ashtray was all he required.

When prompted, he was a good conversationalist…informed, well-read, intelligent, and even darkly humorous.

He was almost always alone. A few of the regulars had tried to draw him out, but he would smile politely and keep to himself. Pity, really. Someone that young, that handsome…alone.

Harry knew what they thought; you didn't have to be a Legilimens for that. Muggles were painfully obvious, and he saw clearly the curiosity in their eyes when he rebuffed potential drinking or bed partners. Some figure him for gay, some for straight, some for bi…but it didn't matter what anyone thought because there was only one person he would ever want to be with.

He couldn't trust him…but he still loved him.

Fucking Malfoy.

"Ready, Harry?" Lauren was smiling down at him, her coat over her arm. Behind her stood Darren, also waiting. The two main would-be objects of his affections, banding together for a night. He suppressed a smile and wondered how much the "Who will finally fuck Potter?" pool had grown to. He was tempted to make a prediction of his own and toss a few pounds into the hat…but he didn't think "No one you gits know" would go over too well.

"Yeah, sure." He shut his computer down, slipped on his jacket and came around the desk. Lauren immediately slipped her arm through his, causing Darren to scowl briefly before re-arranging his face in his usual amiable expression.

Amiable. God save him from nice guys who wanted to treat him well.

A few of their co-workers were already there, having secured a group of tables; a large turnout was expected. Harry cynically wondered if it was his immense inter-office popularity that spurred this expectation, or if the lure of free appetizers from 5pm to 7 pm and an open bar was too much to resist.

The requisite bottle of scotch was procured and the first drinks poured. "To Harry!" was the simple toast and all drank to that.

A steady stream of people flowed in, around and out, the table always full. The air was thick with smoke, the floor sticky with spilled alcohol. The noise grew, as did the ridiculousness of the toasts, but still Harry smiled through it. He wasn't having a good time, exactly, but nor was it as bad as he'd feared. He was usually flanked by Darren and/or Lauren, and after his sixth scotch, had stopped trying to guess whose hand was on his thigh at any given time. He found he didn't much care one way or the other.

He drank steadily, and the faces slid past him. He managed to nod and occasionally even make an intelligent comment, and that seemed to be enough.

Last call came entirely too soon…he had been there for almost nine hours.

He stood up, painfully aware in some small corner of his mind that he was drunk. Not just buzzed, not just pleasantly high…but completely shitfaced.

Fuck. Someone would insist on seeing him home, and if it was either one of the Do Harry Duo, he wasn't sure he'd have the presence of mind to resist. Maybe he shouldn't.

Fuck it…it was his birthday after all, and he hadn't had any for almost a year.

As predicted, a not-so-friendly argument ensued, and though Harry tried to pay attention, his mind wandered and he wasn't surprised when Darren took his shoulders and guided him out the door.

Hooray for the gay contingent! And they said poofs weren't aggressive.

He was vaguely aware of Darren speaking to him, and wasn't surprised to find that he knew where Harry lived. _Probably knows what color boxers I wear_, he thought hazily. He knew he was about to get propositioned and had made up his mind to say yes….if for no other reason than to feel someone else's hand on his cock, to be kissed and hopefully held for a few minutes afterward. It didn't seem like much to ask.

These thoughts floated through his mind, and he was amazed to realize that he almost felt…happy.

A feeling which was shattered by what awaited him on his front steps.

A well-dressed, slightly-too-handsome blond man sat there, calmly smoking and waiting for him to come home.

Harry stopped short, and was saved from an embarrassing stumble onto the man by Darren's arm.

"Hello Harry."

He worked his mind and mouth slowly around the words. "Fuck off and die, Draco."

"Is this guy a problem, Harry?" Darren was concerned and frankly, pissed off. Who the fuck was this now? Wasn't getting rid of the bint enough for one night?

"I wanted to wish you a Happy Birthday." Draco's voice was steady.

"Done. Now get the fuck away from me." Harry's voice was slurred, but the meaning was clear.

"You're shitfaced."

"You're a cockhead. Move."

"You heard him," said Darren. "Move your ass and let the man into his own house. Or…"

Draco stood up; he was easily a half-foot taller than the other man. Damn. Harry always forgot that the he had shot up fifth year, leaving most of the rest of them in the dust and alternately praying for similar growth spurts and looking up growth potions in the Restricted Section. He looked down at Darren and smiled dangerously. "Or what?"

"Or else I'll kick your ass and send you home to your mum." He didn't sound quite as confident as before. He let go of Harry's arm and Harry managed to fall gracefully against the railing, propping himself up with some difficulty; the steps seemed to be vibrating under his feet. Weird.

"Sending me home to my mum is hardly something YOU are capable of." Draco's tone was even and a bit amused, but Harry recognized the slight undertone. Not to mention that Narcissa would curse Darren's balls off if Draco asked her to. He had to step in. "Mate, s'alright. He's no problem. It's fine."

Darren looked at him in consternation. "Harry, I don't really think you're in the best shape to determine what's ok and what isn't at this point."

With a mighty effort that he hoped wasn't evident – though Malfoy's smirk told otherwise – Harry stood straight and spoke clearly. "Really, Darren, it's fine. This person is an old…uh, acquaintance of mine and he's ok. "

Thank God for his alcohol tolerance kicking in.

"Acquaintance?" The other man looked skeptical.

"We used to fuck," said Draco casually. Harry glared at him, and he almost laughed.

"Oh…uh, well. Still; I'm not comfortable leaving you alone with this… this wanker."

"He IS a wanker…but he's harmless. I'll be fine. Promise."

Darren looked from one to the other; the blond was arrogantly smirking at him, and Harry was looking at him with expressions of alternating anger and…desire. He recognized the look…though he'd never expected to see it on Potter's face. Hoped, yes…expected, no.

Goddammit!

"Well…" he pretended to be considering it, although he knew and Draco knew it was a done deal. "Call me tomorrow so I can make sure you're all right."

"Yeah, I will. I'm off work."

"Lucky you. Don't forget, ok?"

"I won't. And thanks for looking out for me. 'preciate it."

"Anytime, Harry." Darren gave Draco one last nasty look, and Draco smiled back at him, lazy triumph in the expression. He left, looking over his shoulder more than once.

He never caught the look of concern in the interloper's eyes, or saw the gentle arm wrap around Harry's shoulders as Harry unlocked the door and went in.

Draco followed him…then the door closed.

& & &

Once inside, Harry leaned against the wall. The room was spinning and he thought he might actually be sick.

"Come on, love….you don't want to throw up here." Draco's arm was back around him, and Harry fought the urge to just lean into him and let himself be taken care of.

No. Fuck him. He wrested himself away and nearly fell, caught only in the nick of time by a smooth pale hand. He shook it off and turned to face him. "I'm fine now. You can go home to whomever now and leave me alone."

"I don't go home to anyone and you are not fine. You're about to vomit, you're drunk off your ass and if I leave you be, you'll probably fall and crack your head open. So, no, I'm not about to leave you alone. Forget it."

"I don't want you here."

"I don't care."

"Yeah, no shit; you've never cared." With difficulty, Harry made his way to the bathroom and slumped down against the cool tile, turning his face to the cold gratefully.

"Take off your clothes." Draco's voice sounded like it came from very far away.

"You'd like that."

"Potter," Draco sighed, then got down on Harry's level. The green eyes were glazed, but damned if they didn't still draw him in like they always had. He swallowed. "Get undressed; get in the shower. You're sweaty, you smell like stale smoke and alcohol, and if you toss, it will wash away. Come on now. Please."

Harry's eyes were mostly closed. "Make me."

"That's mature of you. Fine, I will."

"No magic."

"Don't need any." Draco hefted him up and pinned him against the wall; Harry offered little resistance, despite his provocative words. With practiced fingers, he unbuttoned Harry's shirt and pulled it off, trying to not to stroke the bare skin underneath.

He hadn't earned that right.

Yet.

The trousers and underwear followed shoes and socks. He slipped Harry's glasses off and set them on the sink. Realizing he was naked, Harry was indignant. "Hey!" Draco ignored him and reached past him to turn on the shower. Cold would be best, but that would be cruel…tepid was more prudent. As he adjusted the water, he felt a heavy weight slump against him…Harry was fading fast.

For just a moment…against all better judgment…he let him stay there, raising his other hand to thread into Harry's hair and nuzzle his neck. Damn but he wanted to…

No. No. Later…if at all. He thrust Harry into the shower and heard the resulting yelp, followed by some incoherent mumblings. "Wash yourself, Harry."

He wasn't, however, only letting the water splay over him, his arms propped against the wall. Draco regarded him closely, his eyes traveling the length and breadth of the other's body.

Too skinny, definitely, and too pale; his hair was unkempt too, long and shaggy. He looked like he didn't take any more care of himself than he absolutely had to.

In other words, typical Harry. Draco wanted to laugh, but felt tears prickle his eyes instead.

"I said wash up, Potter." He made his voice intentionally harsh, since nice was obviously not working.

"Fuck you."

"Jesus Christ…do I have to come in there and make you?"

A snort was his only reply.

Alright then; screw him, he WOULD make him.

Draco swiftly disrobed and stepped into the shower, deliberately hip-checking Harry in the process. He grabbed the soap and proceeded to lather the other up, all over. "At least wash your cock and ass for me…it's the least you can do."

"You want them clean, you wash 'em." Harry was still leaning against the shower wall. The water was helping his muscles relax, the steam helping him breathe.

Without a word, Draco did so, keeping his touch light and brief, enough to ensure cleanliness but no more; even so, Harry stirred and he had to back up so as not to nudge against Harry himself.

He then turned to the task of shampooing and finally pushed Harry under the spray to rinse off. Draco stepped out, toweled off and pulled Harry out, doing the same to him. Still damp but smelling much better, he guided Harry to the bedroom, and he fell onto the bed. Sighing, Draco went to pull up the sheet, only to note that Harry was fast asleep.

He let himself sit down for a moment by his side, and gently stroked the damp, over-long fringe out of his eyes. "Night, Potter."

He found Harry's robe…Gryffindor crest still intact, if just barely…and slipped it on, then went out the living room, lay down on the couch and waited for sunlight.

& & &

When Harry woke up, he wasn't sure at first how he got home at all.

Or why there wasn't anyone in bed with him…male or female.

Or why he was naked…and there was no one in bed with him.

His mouth felt like something had crawled into it and died. He grimaced.

Groping for his glasses, he found them on the nightstand. He really needed to look into laser surgery; the only person he'd ever seen who lost their glasses as much as he did was Velma on Scooby Doo. He pushed them on and looked around.

His bed. His room. No clothes on the floor. In fact, no clothes on the chair, on the dresser or hanging off the curtain rack. The closet door was open and Harry saw that his shoes had all been neatly lined up in a row…by function…and then by color.

Malfoy had been here.

The night's events came rushing back to him and he groaned. Now that he thought about it, he could hear the faint hum of the washing machine downstairs…and the smell of coffee.

That alone might be worth getting up for. He reached for the cigarettes he kept in his bedside drawer, but they were gone. Well, that sucked. But there were more in his study.

He got up a bit unsteadily and stretched…bad idea. His head swam. He made his way to the bathroom, used the toilet, brushed his teeth and wasn't entirely surprised to see the four Advil already out on the sink. He swallowed them dry, then reached for his robe…which smelled oddly like Draco.

What the hell had he been fucking up to all this time? How long had he slept?

The clock in the bedroom said 11:30 am.

He went into the kitchen, bypassing the side of the table where a fully dressed blond sat sipping coffee and reading the paper. He felt the eyes on his back as he poured himself coffee – albeit a bit shakily – and added sugar.

He went across the room to his study and hunted in his desk drawers…then back to the kitchen and looked in the last cupboard. Then he stood and faced Draco. "What have you done with them?"

"In the dumpster." Draco calmly put down his cup.

"What?"

"They're in the dumpster." Noting the panicked look on Harry's face, he added. "And it's already been picked up so don't bother even thinking about rooting through there."

"Who the hell are you to mess with my stuff?"

Draco put down the paper and folded his hands. "Your skin looks like shit, your breath last night was, shall we say, atrocious and your health habits are laughable. The last thing you need to do right now is to smoke. So sit down, have your coffee and let's have a conversation."

Fuming and feeling helpless, he sat down with his coffee and stared at Draco, who simply looked back, expressionless.

"I have a load of wash going, and another in the dryer. You had nothing that was clean. I also filled your fridge…condiments are not a beverage, by the way, and that's about all you had. I would have made some breakfast, but didn't know when you'd get up. So I settled for coffee." He reached into his pocket and pulled out his mobile phone and handed it to him. "Call your boyfriend before he freaks out. He's called twice already."

"He's not my boyfriend." Harry took the phone, being careful not to touch his fingers. He flipped it open, punched in a number and waited a moment. "Hi, Lauren, it's Harry. Yeah, I'm fine. Yes, I had a great time." Draco was smirking, and Harry wanted to throw something at him. "Is Darren there? He wanted me to call so he'd be sure I made it in alright. No, he didn't stay. No…Lauren, can I just talk to him? Thank you." He waited, tapping his fingers; the ones that would usually be holding a cigarette at this point. Draco reached over, picked up his hand and looked at the fingers, shaking his head, and then dropped the hand abruptly. Harry yanked it back and scowled at him.

"Hey, Darren. Yeah, I'm fine. Came in, went to bed. To sleep," he amended hastily as Draco smiled into his cup. "I've felt better, but it's more due to external circumstances than hung over-ness. No, he's ok. Like I said, someone I used to know. I'll be back at work in the morning. Thanks for seeing me home, really. Ok. Bye."

He closed the phone and slid it back across the table.

"External circumstances?" Draco was amused.

"Yes. Like untrustworthy, know it all prats coming into my home uninvited, wearing MY robe, throwing away my cigarettes, and even organizing my fucking shoes!"

"I can't help that part; if anyone ever begged to be organized, it's you. And on top of those heinous crimes, don't forget that the prat washed you, your filthy clothes, shopped for food and made you coffee."

"None of which you were asked to do, mind you."

"And as if I needed further proof of your overdependence on nicotine, look at your goddamned fingertips…they're stained."

"I'm a _write_r, Malfoy. Ink…you know?"

"You're an _addict_, Potter….chain smoking, you know?"

Harry leaned back in his chair and Draco automatically moved his cup out of the way of the feet that swung onto the table. It made him want to gnash his teeth when Harry did that….which was at least partially the reason Harry did it, he was sure.

"Draco, why are you here?"

A simple question…with a very difficult answer.

"I'm here because I wanted to wish you a Happy Birthday. And because I wanted to see you."

"That's touching. Ever consider that I didn't want to see you? Ever again?"

Draco looked at him steadily. "No. I never considered that."

"Figures."

"You haven't thrown me out."

"I don't have the strength at the moment…but that doesn't mean I want you here."

"I have your birthday present." Draco reached over to the other chair and handed him a small package wrapped in red paper with gold ribbon.

Harry looked at it. "Nice wrap job. You didn't spontaneously combust over the color scheme while doing so, I see."

"No; I am willing to make some sacrifices once in a great while. Open it."

Harry did…it was a sleek red IPod. "I loaded it with all those god-awful bands you like, all that heavy metal shit; check the play list."

Despite himself, Harry grinned as the list of songs scrolled by. "How did you find all this?"

"Painstaking research and many hours of aural torture. Honest to God, Potter, this stuff…some of it anyway…is pure dreck."

"To each their own." Harry had already slid the speaker into his ear and turned it to the first song. Bass rumbled out and Draco winced. "Just, please, please don't…" Harry had begun to sing along with the music. "…sing. Fuck me." He got up for more coffee, and was glad his back was turned so Harry couldn't see the smile on his face. Harry's voice was actually not bad; it was more his choice of material that Draco deplored.

The dryer went off and he went to the basement to gather the clothes. He lugged the full basket upstairs and placed it on the table. Harry was on Track #2 and going strong. "Hey…metalhead…your clothes, you help fold." Harry turned it off and looked up beatifically. "Great song…sure you don't want to…"

"I'm sure. You fold your mangy underwear. I don't suppose you have an ironing board anywhere?"

"Somewhere…I was using it as a second desk so it's probably full of stuff. Don't bother. I don't."

"I see that."

They were mostly silent as they folded. Every once in a while Draco would catch Harry looking at him, but he never held the gaze, always looking away.

Being near Harry again was harder than he'd thought it would be. It had been a calculated risk to come here last night, but he didn't want to miss Harry's birthday. Last year had been too soon; he had sent a present, but didn't know if Harry had gotten it, or if he'd even accepted it. This year, he had resolved not to be such a coward.

Their last fight had been one for the record books; screaming, crying, throwing things. And at the end, both of them spent, Harry had left the apartment. A day later, Ron Weasley had come to collect Harry's belongings, speaking little to Draco, his eyes turned downward, embarrassed. He'd left and that had been the last he knew of Harry for a few months.

Licking his wounds had taken that long. He still didn't know why. Why he did the things he did. Why he was made to self-destruct. Why he invariably took Harry with him on these one-way trips to hell.

All he knew is that life without his best friend and lover was beyond empty.

Fortunately for him, Harry was a creature of habit, and finding him again had not been hard.

But now that he was here…he wasn't sure what to say. What to do. He refused to think that there was nothing he could do. There had to be.

He looked up and caught that green gaze again; but before it could leave him, Draco reached out and cupped the other's chin, holding his face in his hand.

"Let go of me, Malfoy."

"I can't." And it was the truth. He couldn't.

"Harry, I…."

That gaze was killing him.

He leaned over and kissed that mouth, staying pressed to it until the lips softened under his and parted, and he slid his hand around the other's neck and submerged himself into a place devoid of time and circumstance.

& & &

"This wasn't right."

They were lying on their backs on the bed, looking up at the ceiling, not touching.

"This was a mistake."

"Will you stop saying that, Potter?"

"It was!"

Draco sighed and rolled over to prop himself on his elbow. "Why?"

"Why? Jesus Christ, you have to ask?"

"We loved each other once…we can do it again."

Harry sat up abruptly. "No we can't. I can't. I'm not going to let you hurt me again."

"You sound so certain that I will." Draco was hurt, but he couldn't ignore the small voice inside him that reminded him of the times he had, indeed, hurt Harry; on purpose. Because he could. He shoved it away. "I've grown since the last time, Harry. I know what being without you is like. Its emptiness and I don't want that. Have you been happy without me?"

Harry thought about his nights staring into amber liquid and gray smoke. It was safe. It was honest. It didn't hurt him…unless one counted the prospect of cirrhosis of the liver and incipient lung cancer as a negative.

But it was also…empty.

Harry buried his face in his hands. "I love you but you hurt me. Whether you mean to or not, you do. And you can't stop it; it's not your way. And this is the third time, Draco. How much of a fool do you think I am?"

"You love me?" This was more than he'd hoped for.

"Did you hear the rest of it at all?" Harry stared at him.

"Yes, I did. And I can stop hurting you. I will. I swear."

"I don't believe you."

"What do I have to do?"

"Let me be. Don't try and drag me into bed again…I know, I let you this time, because I'm lonely and needy…but don't try to do it again. See if you can be my friend first and not just a fuck toy."

"I can do that."

Harry snorted and looked at the clock. "Oh, shit…I'm going to be late. Damn!" He scrambled out of bed and went to the kitchen, pulling a pair of jeans and t-shirt from the pile of clean clothes and dressing swiftly.

"I thought you had today off?"

"I'm meeting my realtor if you must know."

"You're buying something?"

"Yes. I need to put down the deposit. Checkbook, checkbook," he muttered, digging around on his bureau.

"What are you buying?" Draco got up as well and reached for his clothes.

"A house."

"I figured that much, Mr. Taciturn. What kind and where?"

Harry found the checkbook and stuffed it with his wallet into his back pocket. "Come see if you're that nosy."

"Don't mind if I do." Privately, he wondered what kind of house Harry Potter would buy without his influence. This should be interesting.

"Good, you can drive, 'cause I have no idea where my keys are. Let's go."

They had gone only a couple of blocks when Harry gestured to Draco to pull over at the store. "Don't tell me," said Draco, rolling his eyes.

"Bite me," retorted Harry, slamming the car door and going inside. Draco sighed and lit his own cigarette, watching people go in and out and marveling at the outfits people wore. Did no one understand that spandex was a privilege and not a right?

Harry came back out presently and scowled at him. "Asshole. Look what _you're_ doing."

"It's been over six hours since I had one…I think I'm entitled."

A moment later, the other looked considerably calmer and Draco laughed. "You're addicted."

"Yes I am and I don't care, so lay off me."

"Where are we going?"

"Downtown…take a left at Oxford Street and its right next to Cavendish Square; next street over."

Draco was reluctantly impressed. "Nice neighborhood."

"Yes, it is."

Following directions, Draco pulled up to a generously sized house, gray shingled with white trim, a large garden and carport. "This is it," said Harry, getting out and popping a mint into his mouth. Draco followed, amazed.

Harry greeted the realtor and apologized profusely for being late, turning on his considerable charm; then they followed her into the house.

Draco prowled about and fell instantly in love with the place; the high ceilings, the large rooms - four bedrooms, he noted with glee, kitchen, large living/dining room, laundry room, two bathrooms, a large back deck, a garden. It was perfect.

Exactly what they had wanted.

He was suddenly painfully aware that he was not a part of this…this would be Harry's house, his alone. Not theirs, together.

Desolation washed over him and he bit his lip hard.

The realtor and Harry came round the corner just then and he hastily looked down…but Harry caught the look and knew what it meant. He felt an almost painful urge to go over to him and put his arm around him, to tell him that yes, this was theirs and that they would live happily ever after. But he couldn't.

The fairytale had ended badly twice already.

"So, Mr. Potter…are you satisfied with the improvements overall?"

"Very satisfied. I'm ready to make the offer and put down the deposit."

"Excellent." She named a figure and Draco blanched; it was a LOT, even by Malfoy standards. He knew Harry was loaded – and it WAS a great neighborhood - but still…. Harry nodded. "That's fine. If you wish to check with your clients, I'm ready to write a check for the deposit today…or the whole amount if you wish."

The realtor looked like she'd died and gone to heaven. "Certainly…let me make the call."

She hurried away with her cell phone and Draco looked after her. "She's going to have to wipe up, Potter. I think she may have pissed herself."

Harry was running his hand along the balustrade, and laughed. "I've put her through her paces; she's entitled. I nearly drove her crazy with my pickiness."

Draco raised an eyebrow. "You? Picky? I thought I was the pain in the arse."

"You must have rubbed off on me somehow. It's a great place, isn't it?"

"It's perfect; you've struck gold here."

"Yeah," Harry sighed happily. "I did."

He turned and caught that look again. Now he did go over to Draco, standing close but not touching. "I'm sorry. I know you wish this could have been for both of us."

Draco took a deep breath. "Yeah, well…I kind of fucked that up royally, didn't I? If I had been…"

"Don't start down that path right now, ok, Draco? I just don't have any answers for you."

"I know…and I don't want to spoil your day here."

The old Harry would have said "Oh, babe, you aren't… " and kissed him. But the new Harry simply nodded and said "Thanks."

The realtor came back, a wide smile on her face. "They've accepted the offer – the deposit makes the house yours! I'm so excited for you!"

Harry grinned. "I'm so excited for me too." He pulled out his checkbook, and Draco automatically handed Harry a pen…since he never had one. Ever. He took the pen and swiftly wrote the check, signing it with an uncharacteristic flourish and handing it to the realtor, who held it gently, like a newborn.

Draco didn't blame her; when he held checks like that, he was careful too; even though it was usually other people's money and not his.

"You must have gotten early financing," she said cheerfully. "Good credit and all."

"I have no credit," said Harry casually, handing Draco back his pen. "I'm paying cash for the house at the closing. When will that be, by the way?"

"Cash?" Her eyes were wide. "But, Mr. Potter that is a fair amount of money!"

Harry shrugged. "I've saved up for a house for a while."

"Oh…well. You must be a very diligent saver. The closing will be next week, Tuesday at 2:00 pm; is that ok?"

"That's fine. At your office?"

"Yes. This is a lovely place, I really am happy for you."

He smiled at her. "Thank you."

Draco personally felt she was far happier with the commission, but wisely said nothing.

They parted outside the house, Harry staying a few moments after to walk the grounds.

"Can I walk with you?" He looked up. Draco looked uncertain…not a normal look for him. Harry held out his hand; "Come on."

Draco closed his hand around Harry's and together, they walked the garden, trying to identify the various flowering plants and shrubs.

Together.

& & &

He didn't want to go home that night. Home was a cold place. He had made it that way, intentionally. As punishment.

But Harry wouldn't let him stay with him.

"I don't think it's a good idea; even if you sleep on the couch, I'll know you're there. You know where I am. And I really need sleep; good sleep, unbroken, sober sleep. I have work in the morning, a meeting at nine." He glanced over at Draco who had looked stubborn, but was now, unaccountably, laughing. "What?"

"You. 'I have a meeting at nine.' How corporate of you."

"Some of us have responsibilities and can't conduct all our business over drinks at some ritzy restaurant…or at gay bars at midnight."

As soon as the words left his mouth, he felt ashamed, even though they were true.

"Touché, Potter." Draco put on his coat.

"Draco, I'm sorry. That was out of line."

"No, it was completely justified. Bastardly, but justified. Maybe more of me has rubbed off on you than you know."

"I hope not that part." Harry looked downcast. Draco stepped closer and lifted Harry's chin with his fingertips. "Don't worry, Harry. You'll always be nicer than I am, never fear. I have a whole lifetime of assholeness to draw upon; you're still a rank amateur at being a dick. Take heart."

Harry smiled wryly at that. "Thanks."

"Good night, Potter."

"Night."

Draco paused at the door. "Can I see you again?"

Harry sighed. "I don't know. I'll call you. You left your mobile number, right?" Draco nodded. "Ok then. I can't promise anything."

The door closed after him and Draco felt bereft.

& & &

True to his word, Harry did go to bed. But he didn't sleep. Instead he turned on his own mental films and watched private home movies well into the night.

So many of them…he and Draco had spent literally years together at this point, engaged in various forms of passion; some had been physical. Some had been mental. All had usually resulted in sex of some sort.

He saw them as sixth years, nervous, fumbling in alcoves and broom closets, rubbing against each other, stifling the sounds of their orgasms against cloth-covered shoulders. He saw them during the war, when no one was sure what side Malfoy was on – even HE didn't know sometimes. It didn't seem to matter whether Harry was consorting with the enemy or one of his own…they were together. Afterward when the smoke had cleared, they had hunted down the last of the known DE's together; hence the time spent in bars, solidifying their vices and their need for each other.

The first time they had tried to make a go of it…until Harry learned that Draco still cruised. The second time; after what seemed an innocuous exchange about liking women had resulted in Draco bringing one home to fuck in front of him; torment that had gotten much too much out of hand.

The first separation had lasted barely a month…this last one, over a year. Harry had spent the better part of that year working by day, drinking by night and telling himself that he would date again when he was ready. He had gone on with his life; looked at houses; invested money; bought real furniture. He wasn't going to let the other man reduce him to a weepy teenager again.

He had known in his heart that it wasn't over. He wasn't sure he and Draco could ever BE over, not entirely. But now, when he was closer than he'd ever been to being "normal..." what was he doing even thinking about him again?

When his mobile rang, Draco reached for it immediately.

"Hi."

"Hi."

"What's up?" he asked.

A snort in his ear. "You, me, my cock…all of us are up."

A small smile curved his lips. "Mine WAS up, but I took care of it already."

"You're efficient as hell. What the fuck are we doing here?"

"I don't know. You're in charge, you tell me."

A sigh. "I don't want to be in charge."

"Yes you do. You've felt helpless the other times and now, dammit, you want to call the shots. I know you, Harry… a lot better than you think I do."

"Great…so if you know me so well, why am I calling you?"

"Because you've spent the last two hours thinking about us and our checkered history, going back and forth and now you're tired and confused and horny and just want to be told."

"I really, really hate you, you know that?"

"I do. And you should. I hate me, so there's no earthly reason you shouldn't as well."

"Why do you hate you?" Harry shifted his pillows so he was half-sitting up and reached for a cigarette, cursing his dependence on them at times of stress and uncertainty….i.e. his entire adult life thus far.

"Why do I hate me? You want a list?"

"You're more in love with yourself than anyone else I've ever met."

"Potter, you are delusional - even after all this time - if you truly think that."

Harry thought about it. "You always seem like you know it all, have seen it all, and are above us mere mortals."

"It's an act," replied Draco, suddenly tired and not caring anymore. "It's a huge fucking lie I've perpetrated all my life and I'm sick of it. I'm sick of being fake. I'm sick of being the cool one, the efficient one, the calm one, the bastard. I want to be the neurotic needy one for a change. I want to be taken care of. I want to be loved."

The last was said in a very small voice.

"I've loved you and you know that."

"You loved the person you thought you knew. Not me."

"If this is another one of your acts, Malfoy, I'm not interested."

"It's not an act, but I'm not going to flay myself alive over the phone to prove it." He snapped the phone shut, feeling oddly like he was about to cry. The heavy lump in his throat was choking him and his eyes burned. He lit a cigarette and tried to breathe.

This time when the phone rang, he let it, hearing the voice mail click in.

A moment later he played the message.

"_I believe you. Come be with me. Show me who you really are."_

Then he did cry.

& & &

Harry answered the door when he rang, took one look at him and took his arm, pulling him into the entryway. "Nice pajamas," said Harry, trying to make him smile. "I figured they'd say _Home of the Whopper_ or something like that on them."

Draco tried to smile, but couldn't quite do it.

Harry led him into the living room and pulled Draco down beside him on the couch, covering them both with a throw, children at summer camp. Harry moved so that Draco could rest his head on his shoulder, and began stroking his hair in a gentle manner born of long practice. The tears that came this time were hotter and more desperate than before, but Harry's hand didn't stop moving, and his arm tightened around him as he wept.

"I'm sorry," Draco finally managed. "I am so sorry."

Harry knew he didn't mean for the tears…he meant it for everything.

"I know. So am I."

"You didn't do anything…it was me. It's always been me. I don't know why. I love you more than anything in the world, and I'm so afraid of that feeling. I don't know what to do to stop it, but I lose a little more of myself every time I hurt you…not to mention what it does to you. God, Harry…why is this me? What am I doing?"

"I don't know. I wish to hell I did…'cause I love you too and when I'm not with you, nothing is right. I try to make it ok, I try to go on. But all I can feel is "not with Draco."

That's it. That's all."

"You're my world, Potter…fucking melodramatic as that sounds, as typically Malfoy as that sounds…it's the truth. I don't deserve you, I'm not what you need, but I need you."

"You need me."

"Yes."

"And you want me."

He nodded, the tear streaks drying salty on his cheeks. He didn't dare look up; never had he felt this naked, this exposed.

He felt his face being turned up, and sensation of a warm, faintly minty tongue licking the tracks on his face, licking the tears away. He stayed stock still, feeling every tiny sensation on his skin. When the tongue moved down to swipe across his bottom lip, the last tears slid down his cheeks, even as he responded to the kiss, even as he wrapped his arms around the other man and held him as tight as he could...the tears came.

"I love you," he whispered against Harry's lips.

"I know. And I love you."

Morning found them still wrapped up together, faces buried in each other.

Draco's face wasn't the only one streaked with tears.

& & &

Harry was late to his meeting, but no one gave him shit for it. Had he been a lesser star at the paper, had less impact, less readership, maybe…but since he was popular with the subscribers, his chronic lateness had been christened "Harry Time" and was accepted.

"Sorry, sorry." He apologized as he slid into his seat for the story idea meeting. Technically, as a columnist he didn't HAVE to attend…but the editor thought everyone should be involved, and so the room was crowded and smelled like cologne and coffee.

He only half-listened to the ideas being tossed around…his arena was politics and as long as Parliament kept fucking up and the other leaders of the nations of the world made asses of themselves, he was assured of timely topics. However, the topic of "Why Men Cheat" piqued his attention and he tuned in. One of the lifestyle reporters was saying that an area that had been neglected by the media was gay couples who cheated, and wondered whether the same factors applied in those relationships as in heterosexual pairings. "Why would it be different?" he asked, shocking all and sundry, who merely assumed Potter was off in whatever universe he frequented. "Why would the factors change based on same-sex?"

"Well, it might not…that's what this psychologist is exploring…if it's any different at all." Deciding to tease him a bit…since he was actually participating, which was rare enough…she asked "Why, do you know any case studies?"

"Do you mean do I know any gay couples who have cheated on each other…yes I do. Very well in fact."

Looks were cast all around; classic "This should be interesting," looks.

Harry sighed. "You all knew I was, don't pretend otherwise. I thought Jim Mayhew made sure of that."

"Mayhew was a prick…couldn't believe a word he said," said one of the sports writers. "So we all took it with a grain of salt." He swung around in his chair to face the typing pool "Sorry ladies…looks like the "Who Will Shag Potter" pot is closed.'

Harry couldn't help himself…he laughed. "I'm sorry…I could have let you in on it sooner, but I kind of wanted to see how much money you'd raise."

"It's a fair amount. We should all split it and go out for a liquid lunch someday."

Hopeful eyes turned to the editor in chief, who sighed. "Who am I to keep you all from a free meal?"

A round of cheers went up.

"So who is the lucky lad, Harry?" asked Lauren who seemed relieved that at least she hadn't lost out to another woman. Darren scowled in the corner.

"His name is Draco and he's an old school friend of mine."

"Draco? I've never heard that name before; it's unusual."

"Yeah, well, so is he." _And how_, he thought.

"Is he a really hot looking blond?" piped in another voice from somewhere in the proofreader's group. "I mean, really hot…drives a black Benz?"

"The license plate says '2Good4U?" added another one of the girls.

"No it doesn't…does it?" Harry was horrified; he'd never looked, to be honest. There were nods. "Jesus God….probably then. Sounds like him, the git. But yes, he's hot."

"Lucky," sighed one, while the other scowled. "See, I told you…"

"Tell me, then," said Harry. "You were gonna say all the good ones are gay, weren't you?"

The girl (young, younger even than him) blushed and nodded.

He smiled. "How would you know Draco was, then?"

"Was…?"

"Gay. Is there a litmus test or something?"

"No," said the older one with a smirk. "Take a young guy who is good looking, well groomed, well-dressed, buff, great hair and most likely….gay."

Harry nodded. "Well, that's definitely Draco. No wonder the room was torn as to me though…I fit what, the young part of that definition?"

"No, you're hot." The younger of the two blurted out, then blushed more.

"Well, thank you for that. It's the whole well-groomed thing that throws you, isn't it?" He grinned. "He's been trying to make me pretty for years. Never seems to take, but God love him, he keeps trying."

"Good thing he has so much to work with." The lifestyle reporter eyed him. Harry snorted. "Yeah, that's what he says. It gives him something to do when he isn't ragging on me for something else."

"Like what?" The younger girl had gotten the blush under control and was savoring the fact that she was actually talking to Hottie Harry Potter, Mystery Man.

"Oh, let's see; smoking, general household messiness, lack of concern regarding personal appearance, tatty trainers, no imported beer in the fridge and various and sundry other bad habits."

"Does he have any bad habits himself?"

"None that he'll admit to…but he's snarky, moody, nit-picky, obsessed with shopping, watches really horrible TV, steals all the covers, puts his cold feet on my legs during the night, never washes his cereal bowls, drinks too much coffee and smokes only slightly less than I do."

The reporter grinned at him. "How long have you two been in love?"

He grinned back. "Since we were 16 and 17 respectively…seven years."

"Good Lord…the other night was only 23 for you?"

"Uh-huh."

"You're just a baby then!"

"I've grown out of nappies, thankfully."

& & &

"You are universally regarded as a hottie, did you know that?" They were on the phone later that night; Harry was packing and had sent Draco home when the Slytherin's anal retentiveness had threatened to send him over the brink, and he had yelled at Draco that if he saw one more "packing list" he was going to have a nervous breakdown.

"But of course…but whom are we referring to?" Draco was lying on his couch, flipping channels; currently he was caught between "Cops…What We Couldn't Show You Due to Legal Reasons Before" and "When Sloths Attack." The last, he reflected, could well be Harry's life story.

"All the girls in my office and I suspect at least half of the guys," Harry's voice was muffled. Draco sighed. "Call me back."

"Why?"

"I'm not talking to you while you have a cigarette parked in your mouth."

"I don't."

"You do. You're muttering. Either put it out or call me back."

A moment later, "You're being a real prick about this."

"Potter, you need help. NO ONE is that tense."

"I'm not tense…I happen to enjoy it."

"It's just like you, Potter, to stave off death by magical hands, then kill yourself with a muggle habit. I know you identify with the common man, but really."

Harry sighed. He knew Draco was right but it irked him considerably that he was.

"Draco, things are a little stressful right now, ok? I'm moving into my first house, I'm working and then there's you…"

"I'M stressful?"

"Yes."

"How am I stressful to you? I fucking bow and scrape for you!"

"Don't be an ass…you know exactly what I mean."

There was silence on the other end of the phone…Harry sat down on a box, fidgeted, and waited.

"I don't want to be stressful for you. I want to be good for you."

"You are….but you want to jump back in like nothing ever happened, pick it all up and I can't do that this time. You said you'd try to understand that."

"I just…miss you. Maybe you've managed to not miss me, but I can't do the same, sorry."

Harry took off his glasses and rubbed his hand tiredly across his eyes. "I miss you too; all the time."

"Yet you send me home because you don't like my lists."

"It's not that…you just hovered and it drove me mental."

"Potter, if you do things your way, it will be utter chaos."

"Yes, but it's MY utter chaos."

"So I am reminded on an hourly basis."

A short pause, then a long sigh. "Look…I'm sorry this isn't something we're doing together; I wish more than anything that it was. But you…you pushed me away and I had to move on. It took fucking forever for me to pull myself together, but I did, and I have, and now you're back and you totally fuck with my reality." He reached for a cigarette, then pulled his hand back. He really did need help with this particular habit.

Great. Something ELSE Malfoy was right about. He sighed again.

"Good boy." The voice was tiredly amused.

"What am I, a dog? What?"

"You went to light up and didn't because even you know that it's completely out of hand."

"Goddamn you…what, do you have cameras installed here?" He instinctively looked up at the bare white walls.

"No, I just know you like I know myself. Better, actually. I've spent the last thirteen years of my life watching you, studying you, thinking about you and lusting after you. Not to mention all the time I've spent being in love with you and hoping that you would understand when I was a git and being grateful beyond belief when you did, and crying myself to sleep when I'd fucked it up again." A small laugh. "If there was a course called **Harry Potter 101**, I could teach it easily…as well as the intermediate and advanced courses."

"See, you could always work at Hogwarts…they probably have a course like that now." It was said simply…Harry didn't talk about his struggles with Voldemort, but nor did he downplay them…though his decision to live mostly as a Muggle was telling.

"I wouldn't be at all surprised. It had to come sometime." Draco paused. "Do you know how much I love you? Do you have any idea at all?"

"I think I do…but you could…you could apparate here and show me."

"You want me to? Are you ready for this?"

"Yeah…I think I am. Do you still have this obsessive need to top or have you gotten over it?" His voice was teasing.

"It's not an obsession, Potter…I just like to…"

"Look down on me, I know."

Draco sighed. "You just look so fucking amazing when you come, and I get the best view that way….but if you insist, you can be dominant. As long as I have you, I don't care."

"Aww, that's sweet. I usually top these days, but I'll be your bottom tonight."

Draco felt a momentary panic and wanted to scream "Who do you top with?"…then fought it down, deciding that in this case, ignorance was bliss. And here he thought Harry had been celibate.

_You wish, Malfoy_.

_Yes I do, dammit._

"Malfoy, you still there? Or has the thought of fucking me totally turned you inside out?" The voice was amused, but there was a tentative undertone to it.

"It has…but yes, I can be there in a minute, if you're sure."

"Give me about 15 minutes…but yes, I'm sure."

"Ok."

Click.

Draco got up and hastily showered – hastily for him, anyway- and dressed in jeans and pullover, slipping his shoes on without tying them. If he toppled over on impact, so be it. He took a deep breath and apparated into Harry's living room.

Which was empty, save for boxes strewn about, rolls of packing tape and bubble wrap. He sighed at the bubble wrap; Harry had annoyed him to no end by sitting on the coffee table and popping the bubbles while Draco was checking his lists.

"Harry?"

No answer.

"Potter, where the hell are you?"

"In here…come find me."

Draco shook his head….then walked to the back of the crowded flat, noting, on his way by, the rogue ironing board, which was indeed covered by books and magazines. Typical.

He entered the bedroom and was both surprised and gratified that the room was reasonably tidy, there appeared to be fresh sheets on the bed, and candles were all over the place. But by far the best sight was a naked, freshly showered Harry sprawled on the bed, waiting patiently.

"Hi"

"Hi yourself."

Harry laughed. "You're still wet too."

"What can I say? I'm compulsive that way. Did you actually shave?"

"Yes….just for you. I don't even shave to go to work, so you are special."

"Well, I knew that." He affected his most superior air and Harry rolled his eyes. "That whole bored-bored-bored thing stopped working seventh year…you do know that, right?"

"You don't say," said Draco, stripping off his shirt.

"Yes."

"Are you telling me to get new material?" He was unbuttoning his trousers now and Harry watched them slide to the floor, followed by his boxers, leaving Draco in all his naked glory. He was aware that Draco was filled out where he was not, that his skin was even where Harry's was sallow. Damn him. However, Harry had to admit that spending his days hunched over his laptop under artificial lighting and his nights drinking and smoking in bars was not quite the healthiest lifestyle he could have chosen. He vowed to try and quit both.

He said as much to Draco, who laughed as he sat down on the edge of the bed. "Potter, you've attempted to quit smoking no less than six times since we've been together…you have great intentions, but lack the follow-through. But it's great that you want to try it again."

"I could do it if I really wanted to."

"Of course you could. You've obviously never really wanted to before."

"That's exactly it."

Draco smiled at the floor. "Yes, that must be it."

"Shut up and kiss me." It was a demand. Draco turned and laid himself down beside Harry, smiling as Harry slid one leg over his and put his hand on the side of Draco's face and pulled him to him, kissing him with a hunger that both surprised and thrilled Draco and he returned it in kind, deepening the kiss until he was lost inside it and knew nothing else.

When they finally separated, Draco leaned back and pulled Harry over so he was on top of him, and stroked his damp hair, once, twice, till he moved his hand and looked at him questioningly. "Where in hell did you get a haircut this time of night?"

He could feel Harry's slight blush against his shoulder. "I just did it myself. I know you like to kiss my neck and I wanted to make it easier for you."

Draco pulled back and looked at him, then burst out laughing. "You're something else."

"Well….you do, right? And now you can, right? So what's the big deal?"

"There is no big deal. I think you are incredibly sweet to worry about it, actually."

"I was going for sexy, not sweet. Next you'll be telling me I'm cute."

"You ARE cute."

"Goddammit!"

Draco pulled him close again and kissed his neck, trailing soft lips from the hard knob of bone at the top of his spine to the nape, which he swirled his tongue over, making Harry moan. "Yeah, you did this for ME," Draco smiled into his skin. "The fact that it drives you fucking wild had nothing at all to do with it."

"Nothing at all. I didn't tell you that you could stop, by the way."

Draco resumed his ministrations, making his own sounds as Harry's hand slid downwards and wrapped around his cock, fisting it in a rhythm as familiar to both of them as the beatings of each other's hearts and the sounds of each other's sighs and moans as they touched, kissed, and finally opened and slid into each other. Harry felt the best of anyone he'd ever been with…slick, hot, so tight, and his strength when he clenched around Draco was more intense than he remembered, wringing an orgasm out of him that made him scream Harry's name, along with calling on God, the universe and whoever invented boy on boy sex.

"And we showered…why?" Harry shoved his sweat-wet hair out of his eyes and grinned over at Draco who was still attempting to refocus his eyes.

"Dunno," he managed. "Fuck, Harry…that was the most incredible fucking orgasm I've ever had. That was fucking brilliant."

"How fucking brilliant was your fucking orgasm Malfoy?" Harry smirked. Multiple uses of the word "fuck" were Draco's hallmark only when he had been shagged senseless; in fact, Harry based his level of expertise on any given night by the number of "fucks" he could get Draco to gasp out. Three was not bad, but Harry was sure, given another round or two, that he could get the count up to six or more.

"Fucking unreal is what it fucking was." Draco's breathing had returned to normal and his flush was receding. Well, five was better.

"Why are you smirking at me?" he demanded, rolling over to look at Harry.

"No reason. You hungry at all?"

"For you," said Draco, reaching for him again. Harry laughed. "No, for food. I need something, some cereal, whatever, if I'm gonna have the strength to top you; if I remember correctly, it does tend to be a wild ride on Mount Malfoy." He swung his legs over the side of the bed and reached automatically into the bedside drawer, then stopped and shut it again. No. He didn't need to.

He felt Draco snicker behind him. "Shut up. Are you coming with me?"

"Yes…you had to mention cereal." Draco got out of bed and stood shakily, stretching. "I suppose you still buy those kinds that are all sugar and have no redeeming nutritional value?"

"Uh huh."

"Excellent."

"You're such a sham," scoffs Harry as he leads the way into the kitchen, Draco trailing behind to watch his ass. "You go to the gym and work out, yet you smoke. You preach healthy eating and salads, and then scarf Cocoa Krispies like there was an imminent world shortage of same. You patronize the arts, then watch Coronation Street on the telly. You're a total fraud.

"I prefer to think of myself as a study in contrasts," said Draco calmly as he poured a bowl of said chocolate cereal and drowned it in milk. "At least I work out, "he said, eyeing Harry. "Your workout these days consists of lifting a glass or a cigarette and then putting it back down. Oh, and clicking a mouse. Let's not forget that."

"Am I smoking at the moment? "

"No, and I'm suitably amazed. Come over here though."

Harry scowls but comes over to Draco, who sets his nearly devoured cereal down. "Turn around."

"Why? Oh…of course." Harry rolls his eyes but lets Draco look him over. "Not bad…it's even kind of even back here."

"It's not exactly difficult to cut across, you prat. I've done it before."

"Ah, so the secret is out. I suspected as much. You can spend the hours from 5pm till 2 am in bars every night, but a half hour to go to the barber is too much for you. You are the unchanging Harry Potter after all."

"If I were well-groomed, what fun would that be? I'm like an old house that needs constant renovation and you're a master contractor."

"You have your charms, I will admit to that; and they are considerable. Can I take you to buy some things for your house though? You definitely need more than what you have here. We could make a day of it."

"You just want to shop…and why do I have the feeling that sometime during that day I'll hear "Harry, check out this shirt…especially with your eyes, it'd be brilliant…and then of course these trousers go with it…and your shoes. Jesus, your shoes." And then, after I have been completely bullied into a new wardrobe, you'll steer me into some trendy salon, talk to the stylist alone while I spin around in the chair, and when I come out, I'll be completely Malfoy-ized and you'll smile at me, tell me I'm fucking hot as all holy hell and promise to shag me senseless once you get me home." Harry folded his arms across his chest and watched Draco blush.

"Am I right?"

"Yes…but you have to admit, you always benefit from my expertise." Draco finished his cereal, and miracle of miracles, rinsed out his bowl before setting it in the sink. Harry, meanwhile, chose a banana and orange, deciding to prove Malfoy wrong about his health habits. However, the sight of Harry nonchalantly munching a banana caused Draco to hastily excuse himself to go outside for a smoke, making Harry shout "Ha!" after him.

He put his jacket on over his bare chest and sat on the steps away from the wind, and lit his cigarette, idly blowing smoke at the sky. He felt the desire for Harry stirring inside him and shivered. How Potter could make him feel this way every time, he didn't know. For all his exasperating traits, Harry still made him feel more alive and loved and cared for than Draco could ever remember anyone ever making him feel. There was no real life without Harry and Draco knew it.

The door behind him opened and closed and Harry sat down on the steps next to him, lighting his own cigarette and running his hand through his hair. He hated to admit it, but only Harry could make even bad habits look sexy…he wanted him to quit or at least cut down severely, but he still liked watching Harry smoke…or do just about anything else for that matter.

"Don't start;" the voice roused him from his reverie. "Huh?"

"You're staring at me. Don't give me shit; you're out here doing it too."

"Oh…I honestly wasn't even thinking about that."

"Yeah sure." Harry gave him a half smile before turning his eyes back up to the sky.

"I wasn't. If you want truth, I was thinking that you make everything look sexy, damn you."

He laughed. "Is that so?"

"Yes."

"So do you. We can look sexy together."

"Yeah, we'll look sexy with our matching oxygen tanks when we get lung cancer."

"We're all gonna die someday." Harry took a deep drag on his smoke and exhaled thoughtfully.

"That's my line…I'm the fatalist, remember? You're the optimist."

"I stopped being an optimist a while ago. You must have missed the newsflash." His voice was quiet.

"Let me guess…about a year ago, give or take?"

"About then, yeah."

They were silent for a while; Draco finished his smoke and wrapped his arms around himself, while Harry lit another and continued staring up at the sky.

"Harry…"

"Hmmm?"

"I love you."

"I love you too."

"Really?"

Harry crushed his smoke out and looked over at Draco. "Yes, really."

"Even though I fuck things up all the time?"

"Draco…" Harry sighed. "Look, you're here, we had a fantastic shag, we're getting along and everything is ok – at the moment. Why push it?"

"Because…" Draco paused. "Because this time, it's for real. I want a future with you, Harry…I want it all. House, kids, family…all of it. I need you to believe in me. Believe in us."

Harry turned to look directly at him. "Draco, I'm not ready for that."

"Not ready in general, or not ready with me?" He tried to keep his voice casual, tried to keep the undertone of desperate need and hurt from reaching the surface.

"Either. Both. We're young yet…I just turned 23. I feel like I've barely lived yet; and the time I have lived has been marked by …romantic, uh, instability."

Despite his hurt, Draco snorted. "That's one phrase for it."

They sat for several moments in silence, each thinking their own thoughts….Draco was aware that he was on the verge of losing the battle with his emotions, and finally got up abruptly and went inside, shutting the door rather harder than necessary.

Harry sighed, a deep sound from his core, and lit another cigarette, watching it burn down between his fingers, finally flipping it away and putting his head in his hands.

& & &

Draco had turned on the water full blast as he sat on the toilet and let his tears come, hoping the sound would mask his ragged breathing. He reflected later that he should have known better…Harry had senses that would make a bloodhound seem deaf, blind and dumb.

"Draco…Open up please."

He tried hard to get his voice to a normal register. "Need to take a piss? Go outside."

"I already did. I want to see you."

"No…no, you really don't. I'll be out in a bit."

"No you won't. Come on."

Harry, amongst all his other qualities, also had the ability to make him feel very stubborn. "No, Potter. Let me be, I'll be out."

"Dammit, Malfoy….alohomora!" The door swung open and Harry stepped through and glared down at Draco. "Hope you're happy, you prat…first time I've used magic in 6 years and it's for you, asshole."

Draco tried to smile, and couldn't. Harry reached over and shut the tap off. "If my water bill is exorbitant, you're paying it." He leaned against the sink and regarded the other man. "Talk to me, Malfoy."

"Nothing to talk about. You're not ready and I'm a git for even thinking that even if you WERE ready, that you'd want to with me." He sniffed and then blew his nose.

"Draco, love…come here." Harry put his hand out and closed it around Draco's wrist, pulling him up and out of the bathroom, into the living room, where he looked around at the mess, and unceremoniously shoved everything off the loveseat. He pushed Draco gently down and went into the kitchen and poured two whiskeys, coming back and handing Draco one, sitting down beside him. "Drink up."

"You don't need to get me drunk to take advantage of me." Draco's tone was forced lightness.

"No, you are remarkably easy, but I won't tell anyone." He drank deeply and then set the tumbler down and looked at his hands; dammit, the fingertips WERE stained.

_I'm quitting tomorrow, I swear. Really_.

Draco smiled a bit. "I hope you will this time."

"Stop reading my mind."

"It's hard not to; you might as well have a cartoon balloon appear over your head."

Harry laughed, then reached over and took Draco's hand lightly. "Look…" he sighed. "I can't believe the ammunition I'm about to give you, but…you don't know – even with all your knowledge of me – how much I want to say yes, yes to all of it. Yes to you moving into the house with me, yes to adopting kids with you, yes to being with you forever. I want that more than anything else in the world. And if I could ever believe you truly meant it too, I would be the happiest person on earth.

I've loved you forever, Draco. Since I knew what love was, you've been the only one. The last two times it's ended – we've ended – I've wished Voldemort had just taken me and killed me then, so I wouldn't have to live with this kind of pain. I found out the first time that unfortunately, you can't **Avada** yourself…'cause I tried. The last time, I got these," he turned his left arm over and murmured a spell Draco knew well…the glamour lifted and Draco sucked in his breath in horror at the slashed scars that crisscrossed Harry's arm…they were deep and serious, parallel to the vein. He hadn't been fooling around. He reached out and cupped Harry's elbow in his palm and traced the scars with his fingertips, feeling the tears rise behind his eyes yet again.

**He** had done this; he had done this to Harry, who he loved more than anything in the world.

Harry didn't say anything, just let Draco stare at them and trace them with his fingers. He rarely looked at them any more; staring at them invariably led to long bouts of drunkenness and pain that could seemingly never be dulled.

"Gods…Harry. I'm…I'm sorry. Oh god, I am, I… I can't see this, I can't live with…" Words failed him and he stood up quickly, the vertigo washing over him and stumbled a few feet away from the couch, swaying on his feet.

Then he was gone, the crack never louder in the small space.

Harry looked at the space where he'd stood; then got up, walked very calmly into the kitchen and reached for the nearly full bottle of whiskey, raising it to his lips and drinking it down, his throat barely working, then setting the empty bottle on the counter. He stood steadily there, then bent to open the cupboard underneath the sink and pull out another full bottle of Dewar's and break the seal with a practiced twist of his wrist. He tossed the seal in the general direction of the trash and then walked purposefully into the bathroom.

He sat down on the toilet seat and took a healthy swig of the Scotch, welcoming the burning in his throat, then very carefully set the bottle down on the counter, making sure it would not topple off and break. It'd be a real shame to waste really good booze.

The box was small, but heavy. He opened it and looked down at the array of filled bottles; one had to love the internet and its myriad of online doctors…a fake diagnosis of a bad back and voila…more pain pills, more narcotics than one knew what to do with. Genius, really.

His hand was steady as he opened the first bottle…Oxycontin. Good stuff, when used properly…fucking brilliant when used improperly. He took three and swallowed them, washing them down with the Dewar's. This was so fucking easy. Granted, magic was faster, but since no one was willing to AK him…Ron had turned pale and made him go to bed "to rest and get your head together" when he'd asked him, and Hermione had gotten that fearful look on her face and pressed the number of a wizarding counselor into his palm when he'd asked HER. He wished the Slytherins of his youth hadn't been so decimated during the war…he was sure one or two of them would have obliged him.

Coated pills were the easiest – they slid down with almost no work at all. Harry had to chuckle wryly and drunkenly to himself when he realized that all his years of deep throating Draco and a few others, plus years of chugging beer had given him the alimentary muscles to accomplish this so smoothly. Who knew a gay drunkard would be the ideal suicide candidate?

_I should tell Mione_, he thought hazily. _Bet she could do a paper on it or somethin' on it._

Down and down and down.

_I should have known….gods, why am I so stupid, every single time? He will never love me like I do him…and I can't do this, not again. I can't._

Dimly, from very far away he heard his name….maybe his father? Sirius? Christ, maybe it was even Snape. He didn't really care anymore.

"Harry…Harry, oh fuck, oh god…Potter! Wake up love, it's me, I'm gonna take you to the hospital and…."

He closed his eyes. He was dreaming again. Draco didn't care.

"Harry! Please, not this, I'm sorry! Don't leave me!"

He felt his eyelids being pushed up and felt warm breath on his face. "Lemme go, Malf…"

Then his eyes slid shut and he slid too, into oblivion.

& & &

Draco sat hunched over in the waiting room of St. Mark's Hospital, twisting his fingers into knots until the lack of blood made them turn white, then releasing them.

Across from him, Ron Weasley pretended to read a magazine, but fooled no one, as his eyes were fixed on a spot above Draco's head and his gaze was blank. Hermione Granger paced from the window to the huge dark doors, a remnant of years past that separated the waiting room from the hospital proper.

When Draco had found Harry, he hadn't known what else to do; call Muggle paramedics? Floo Harry to St. Mungo's? Apparate him there? The shock to his system could kill him. He had tried to make Harry vomit but he wouldn't, the stubborn bastard. Frantically he had phoned Hermione, hoping like hell her number hadn't changed in a year. It hadn't. A few words and the crack of apparition had brought both she and Ron to Harry's flat and a wild car ride later, they arrived at St. Mark's. Draco wanted Northwick Park, but St. Mark's was closer.

The doctor on call's face was grave when he saw Harry…and as his eyes traveled down his arms, Draco realized the glamour was still down and his scars were evident; he could see from Granger's face that she knew of them…but Weasley had gasped and his eyes had grown hot and shiny and he had grabbed Harry's hand tight and whispered. "You're gonna be ok, mate. We'll get this sorted out, I promise. We'll get those healed and this fixed and we'll get all this right again. Promise."

The doctor had ordered Harry into an operating room to have his stomach pumped out, and Ron had turned to Draco, active hatred in his eyes. "You miserable fuck….I should kill you where you stand."

"I wish you would, Weasley," Draco had said miserably before he fell into the chair he sat in now and began to cry, the amount and volume of his tears rising and falling with his breathing.

Several minutes had passed before Hermione's hand on his arm had caused him to look up – and he had seen pity in those amber eyes. Not just for Harry…but for him too.

Even a year ago he would have shaken that hand off and reamed her ass out. Now, he looked down and disappeared back into himself.

& & &

"Who is responsible for Mr. Potter?" asked the young doctor, still in his green scrubs. All three looked up and said in unison "I am."

"Well, "I"," he said. "Listen closely to me." He came closer and sat down next to Ron. "His stomach is empty, but he has suffered some damage from the amount and type of the narcotics he ingested. His stomach and throat have been damaged, and he will need to stay here or at a facility of his –or your – choice for at least the next two weeks, while we assess the damage and try to find a regimen to keep the pain down without resorting to the same narcotics that brought him here."

He sighed and turned his clipboard over in his hands. "His physical injuries are not as worrisome as the reason he was brought here. The marks on his arm tell me that he is no stranger to suicide attempts." He looked at Ron. "Am I to assume that not all of you were aware of this pattern of his?"

Ron shook his head, but Hermione nodded. "I…I knew. But he swore to me that he'd never try it again! That he would see someone, that he would be ok! That he would stay away from YOU!"

This last was aimed at Draco who looked up. All three were looking at him, Hermione now finally teary, Ron furious and the doctor nodding his comprehension. "You are, I assume, his partner?"

"No." It was one word but it was all her could manage.

"You're his fuckin' downfall is what you are," snarled Ron. "The bane of his existence!"

"Ron…."

"No, he is, Goddammit. He swoops into Harry's life, fucks him, makes him promises he has no intention of ever keeping, then fucks him over and leaves. Every bloody fucking time!"

"I love him."

"Why you…." Ron stood up and loomed over Draco, his hands curling into fists. Draco looked up; let Ron beat the shit out of him. He deserved it and it wasn't like he wasn't in the place for it, bloody public hospital or not.

But he didn't. Ron took a breath and turned and walked outside, smashing his fist against the bricks.

"What do we need to do?" Hermione was trying to be businesslike and failing miserably.

"That is up to you, and to him. But I would suggest therapy – couples perhaps – and watching him carefully for some time. I wish I had something more constructive to tell you."

"He'll be all right, though…I mean, eventually?"

"Physically, yes."

"When can we see him?"

"He was waking when I came out here; give me a moment with him and then you can come in."

Hermione nodded, rose, and went after Ron. Draco stood and tried to breathe; he was aching and sore and his muscles were cramped. He felt the doctor's eyes on him.

"What?"

"I'm assuming you are Draco?"

"Yes."

"He doesn't want to see you, I'm afraid."

He looked into the doctor's face, not comprehending. "What?"

"Coming out of anesthesia, he said "no, Draco, never again, no…"several times, in fact. When the nurse asked him if you should come, he shook his head no."

"Harry…he can't not want…"

"I'm afraid he does. I can see that this is hard news for you, and I am sorry; but we respect the patient's wishes here first and foremost. You understand that."

The doctor did not wait for an answer, but nodded to Hermione and Ron, who followed him through the double doors, Hermione looking over her shoulder with a sad and resigned expression.

Draco stood there for a moment longer, then turned and stumbled through the glass doors to the parking lot, into his car and sat there for a very long time.

& & &

"Welcome back, Harry!"

"Yeah, Potter, nice of you to show up to work!"

"Your replacement sucked….he must be blowing the editor."

That last made Harry smile. "That was so not a mental image I needed, Darren, thanks."

The other man grinned. "Made you laugh though."

"That it did. How've things been around here?"

"Same old, same old…the scenery has been somewhat lacking with you gone though. You look good, Harry."

The former Harry would have blushed or muttered, but the new and improved Harry Potter merely smiled and said "Thank you. I feel pretty good."

"You look like you've been working out."

"I have, actually. Doing some of that, quit smoking, all that good stuff."

"You? Quit smoking?"

"Yeah…miracles never cease, huh?" Harry smiled and Darren swallowed. Damn, he was still gorgeous… and built. And those eyes!

"Well, that's great. Do you feel all healthy now?"

"Actually, I have to admit – not as much as they all say you will. Although I can run for longer periods of time without losing breath, so that's something. It's been interesting to see though, the money I spent on cigarettes. Now that I'm not smoking, I seem to be pretty flush with cash. Who knew?"

"All the good vices are expensive. Still like your Scotch?"

"I do…but I don't drink much these days."

"Wow. Who are you and what have you done with Harry?"

"Harry finally wised the fuck up, is what."

"Had to happen sometime. Uh…how's your boyfriend? Drake, Derek…."

"Draco."

"Yeah, sorry, I suck at names."

"It's ok. He's not my boyfriend and I assume he's fine. He always is." The last was said with a slightly forced note, which was not lost on the other man.

"Ummm…so. Does that mean you're dating?"

"I could be, yes." Harry looked at him speculatively and Darren felt himself blush. "Why, are you still interested?"

"I am, yeah. Are you? Interested?"

"Sure."

It wasn't the "hell yes" he hoped for, but it was a LOT further than he'd ever gotten with Harry before. "Well, then…would you like to have dinner Friday night?" _And breakfast the next morning?_

"I'd like that."

"Great. Ah…what do you like to eat?" _Text…subtext_…

"I'm easy. Surprise me." That smile again.

_If you're easy now, Harry, then things really HAVE changed. But I'm sure as hell not complaining_!

"Excellent. Settle things up Friday morning then?"

Harry nodded and reached out to lightly touch his sleeve. "Looking forward to it."

_Holy God._

& & &

Draco knew Harry was home; his new house was actually far closer to the business district than his old flat had been, and with a little planning, Draco managed to pass it several times a week, checking reflexively for Harry's car, looking for lights. He was disappointed to see that Homemaker Harry had actually sprung for curtains – real curtains, not sheets tacked over the glass – and that he drew them at night.

He had paid for Harry's time at Northwick Park; he'd wanted to simply get him to St. Mungo's, but Hermione wouldn't allow it. "He's chosen to live as a Muggle, Draco, respect that."

So he had, but hadn't liked it, though he made sure Harry got the finest care there was to be had. He was not invited to participate in any counseling, but had to rely on Granger when she told him Harry was doing well; that he'd quit smoking and started actually exercising and eating better. He still had a hard time believing either, until the day he'd spotted Harry coming out of the farmer's market loaded down with vegetables and meat. Feeling like a spy, he had parked in the park across the way and watched Harry's house from the side view, where he'd spotted him grilling his meal, washing up, and then, amazingly…NOT stepping out for a smoke. He knew Harry steadfastly refused to smoke inside his new house, so he must really HAVE quit.

Then one day he had actually also spotted Harry outside washing his car…and fate must have been pleased with him that day, because Harry was shirtless.

Dear God. Fortunately black leather seats wiped up well.

He'd spent the past three months torturing himself, dreaming of that night over and over until he had been reduced to drinking far too much himself to get to sleep. He hadn't meant to run…but seeing those scars on Harry – god, Harry of all people, the most level-headed person in the world, the person with the most to be proud of in this world…and knowing that he, Draco, had reduced him to wanting to die, and by one of the slowest and most painful means possible…the sheer shock and anguish of that had taken over and he'd had to get up and not see them, pretend they weren't there.

He still didn't know why he had gone back, except somewhere in his mind, his "Harry sense" had begun to scream at him; and when he had walked in on that scene in the bathroom…the Ice Prince had taken over and Draco had faded into the back of his mind. Draco had not returned until the moment the doctor told him that Harry didn't want to see him.

He didn't remember driving home after that. Or getting into his flat. Or into his bed.

Or the six days following that.

He had lost two large accounts, three smaller ones and his office staff had staged a small revolt. He vaguely remembered his secretary – excuse him, his administrative assistant - coming into his house, into his bedroom and wrinkling his nose at the stale smoke, the dank, oppressive smell of sweat, the stifling heat and his formidable boss reduced to a pathetic heap in the middle of his own black silk sheets.

Jack had dragged him out, thrown him into the shower and made him drink water and coffee till he could stand to eat. Then he had made him toast and eggs and watched him eat. Then he'd made him sign a pile of papers and Draco had taken a wad of cash out of his safe and given it to Jack, telling him to dispense it to the staff equally in payment for dealing with the wrath of his clients. He trusted Jack.

It was Jack who had asked him to pick up Thai food for a late dinner while they worked on an important account that Friday night when he saw Harry and Darren in a corner booth, talking animatedly and looking very much like they were on a date.

He was aware of giving the cashier money and getting change, and of picking up the bags, but not much else…except Harry.

A beautiful, well-groomed, healthy and happy-enough-looking Harry.

Darren saw him first and his first thought was "Oh shit." He said nothing, but Harry managed to catch the path of his eyes and turned his head to look, locking eyes with Draco. He noted that Draco, in fact, didn't look too good.

The cruel part of him, the nasty and vindictive side, thought "Well this is a fitting change…" while the part of him that still and would forever love Draco ached for him.

"Isn't that?"

"Yeah."

"He looks kind of…."

"Like shit?"

"You said it, not me."

With an effort, Harry turned away and shrugged. "That's his problem now, not mine."

At that moment, their food came – and when Harry glanced that way again, Draco was gone.

& & &

Harry was chopping vegetables when the knock on his kitchen door almost made him slice his fingertip off. "Jesus Christ!" He stepped back and took a breath, before going to the kitchen door and turning on the outside light.

Draco stood there; empty handed, head lowered, the rain streaming off the blond hair in rivulets and running down his face and black leather trench coat.

Fuck.

Harry opened the door and looked at him. "Hi."

"Hello Harry." The voice was subdued. "May I come in?"

"Um…." Harry looked over his shoulder. "Yeah, sure, for a moment."

Draco walked in and stood on the doormat while Harry closed the door behind him and walked over to the stove to turn something down. When he turned back, Draco hadn't moved. "Draco, you're dripping. Take the coat off and get warm, at least."

It was warm, and fragrant too, in the large kitchen. Clean as well; things gleamed. Draco looked around. "You finally gave your cleaning person something to do."

Harry smiled. "Yeah, and she's so happy. I actually still do most of it; funny how it's much easier when not every single bare space is covered with crap." He lifted a lid and stirred, then tasted. "Not bad….here, try this." He took a large spoon and offered it to Draco, who wordlessly walked over and took it, dipping it into the pot; it was delicious. "Wow…this IS good. And not incredibly over-spiced."

"Mmmm…amazing what my taste buds can actually TASTE now. Molly sent me all her recipes as a housewarming gift and I've been messing with them, modifying them, you know?"

"That was a great gift – I hear she's an excellent cook. None of the redheads ever seemed to starve."

"Unless they got to the table AFTER Ron." Harry nodded and put Draco's spoon in the sink, running water over it.

"So you did quit, huh?"

"Yep. Nine weeks now."

"That's excellent. Good for you."

"You?"

Draco shook his head. "No. I'm still stumbling down Tar Lung Road, but I never did it quite as much as you did either."

Harry snorted. "So you say. I know better, but whatever works for you."

Draco looked around. "You feast like this every night?"

"No…I still like my cereal in front of the telly, but Chris is just home from a business trip so I said I'd cook for him tonight."

"Who's Chris?"

"A friend. Hand me the pepper, will you?" He did and Harry shook the shaker gently into the pot and tasted again. "Yeah, that's it."

"What about whatshisname from your office?"

"Darren? He's a friend too. Not my type, though, so we've agreed to just be friends."

"Chris is more than that?"

"Not yet; hopefully though. He's a really nice guy."

"Ah. Well, that's something then."

"Uh-huh. What about you? Seeing anyone?"

"Other than not you for three months, no."

Harry sighed and set down his spoon, wiping his hands. "Sorry. I just couldn't. Not if I was going to get any better."

"I'm that detrimental to you?"

"You are Draco. I'm sorry, but you are. I can't….I can't be with you now. Probably not ever. You – I can't control my feelings for you and look what happens."

"Harry…I wasn't leaving that night, it was just those marks…"

"I understand. I don't like to see them either. I finally let Hermione take me to get them healed so I wouldn't have to worry over the glamour. You can still see 'em, but they're so pale that if you aren't looking hard…" He pushed up his sleeve and showed Draco. "See?"

Draco closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them and managed to speak. "Yeah, I see."

Harry pulled down his sleeve again as a voice from the hallway yelled "Hullo! Harry?"

"Hey, in here! Harry smiled suddenly and went to the door of the kitchen, pulling someone through. "You made it home in one piece."

"Barely. Do you think it's actually possible to die of boredom?" The voice was deep and sounded tired but amused.

"I think it may be. Glad you didn't though; I could never eat all this alone." Harry didn't have to lean up far to kiss the other man, and he did, a warm, lingering kiss. The other put his arm around Harry's waist and returned the kiss. "Hey…missed you."

"Same here." The other smiled and would have kissed Harry again, except for the fact that Draco chose to make his presence known at that moment by coughing. "Excuse me," he said, making his voice deliberately husky in the way Harry loved. If Harry was going to kiss another man in front of him, well then, by Christ, nothing was off limits.

The look on Harry's face as he turned said "I'm so onto you." Draco summoned his most charming smile. Harry sighed. "Subtle, Malfoy."

"Ah…this is Draco?" Chris released Harry and stepped forward to extend his hand. "I'm Chris. It's nice to meet you."

Draco was a bit taken aback, but he shook hands; firm grip. No poofy sort here. "Hello; it's nice to meet you too."

"I doubt that, but it's nice of you to say so." Chris smiled and released his hand. "Joining us for dinner?"

Harry looked horrified, and Chris laughed. "Guess not. I bet you have some good boarding school stories about Potter here."

"That's the understatement of the year." Draco almost had to smile a real smile at the thought.

"Maybe another time then."

"Doubtful." This from Harry who was watching them both. Draco looked Chris over; he was handsome…Black Irish from the looks of him. Black hair too, but blue, blue eyes, heavier features, but still…handsome. Draco had to admit he would do him. Dammit.

"Do I pass inspection?"

A lesser man would have blushed and mumbled, but not Draco Malfoy. "I guess you'll do…at least you aren't a blond.

"Thank God," said Harry, deciding to take control of the situation. "I've had enough of those for the rest of my life."

"You've had ONE, Potter."

"Exactly."

Draco raised his eyebrows at him, and Chris laughed. "No blonds, no redheads….don't want to think you're shagging your best mate."

"Dear God. No, that's Hermione's job, and she is welcome to it. I'll stick to brunettes and call it good."

"Good," said Chris simply, sliding an arm around Harry's shoulders. "Reduces the competition by two-thirds." Harry smiled at him, and Draco felt his heart plummet to his feet. This was not good. For him.

It looked perfect for Harry, though.

"I've done it for good this time, haven't I?" His voice was flat.

Harry disengaged himself from Chris, who stepped back. "I'll give you two some privacy."

"No, don't," said Harry. He stepped over to Draco and took his face in his hands. "I'm sorry…but yes. I've done my best and we've tried, but it's just not meant to be, Draco. I always thought it would be, but its not. And I've accepted that. You need to as well."

Draco reached up and held Harry's hands fast. "We **were** meant to be. I still believe that. You said it yourself, we're young. There's still so much time and I swear…"

"You always do, Draco. 'This time it's different, Harry. I've learned, I've grown, and I've changed.' And yeah, you have, a little more every time. But I can't spend the rest of my life waiting for you to change enough for there to be an "us."

"God, Harry…I love you more than anything, you know I do. I can't stand the thought of my life without you!" He heard the desperation in his own voice and swallowed. _I will not cry. Not here, not in front of the guy over there looking at me with the most pity I've ever seen in my life._

"I used to think I couldn't live without you, either. But loving you has nearly killed me – twice. There can be no third time. My nine lives are running out, Draco." He stopped and moved Draco's hands down till he was holding them tight in front of him. "I will always love you. Some part of me will always have _"Property of Draco Malfoy"_ stamped on it. But I'm moving on and you need to as well. I'm sorry. Truly."

"Harry…"

"Goodbye Draco." He leaned forward and placed a quick, gentle kiss on Draco's cheek.

"This cannot be ending like this. Not us. Not US!"

"There is no US anymore."

"You said it would always be! That we were destined, meant to be!!!! I believed you!" Draco's voice was quickly growing ragged.

"I was wrong. I tried, you tried, we both…but sometimes you need to accept that…"

"Fuck that! Fuck you too! You fucking goddamned **liar**!"

Chris stepped forward, but Harry shook his head at him.

"Stop it. Just…don't go there. Don't."

"I'll go wherever the fuck I want! How can you stand there like you never said those things?"

"I did say them!" Against his will, Harry was growing angry. "But you threw them in my face how many fucking times now? How many Draco? And I was always the easy one, the one you could go back to. Compliant Harry, Loving Harry, the Never-Changing Harry! Well you know what? THAT Harry got fucked over every single time by one Draco Malfoy who just assumed that his Harry would always be there! And he's not! Not anymore. Not ever again."

He took a breath and let it out slowly, calming himself. God, he wanted a cigarette all of a sudden. And that pissed him off almost more than anything else.

"Get out of here, Draco. Don't come back. Don't drive by, don't watch me wash the car, don't…just don't anything. Leave me alone. Do whatever you want, but I'm not gonna be part of it ever again."

He went to the rack and handed Draco his coat. "Goodnight."

"Harry, I'm…"

"No. Goodbye." He opened the door, the rain slanting against the porch light. Draco gave Harry one long last look. "I'm sorry. I wanted to be everything for you."

Harry nodded around the lump in his throat. "I know."

Draco turned and left, walking unseeingly down the steps and into the night.

& & &

"Are you ok?"

Harry shook his head.

"Do you want me to stay?"

"I…can't tonight, Chris. I'm so sorry."

"So am I." He paused. "Love sucks doesn't it?"

"It can."

He kissed Harry's head and picked up his coat. "Call me, ok?"

Harry nodded and a moment later, he heard the front door close and he was alone.

Again.

He sank down on the floor, his sorrow too great for tears,

And stayed there.

~ End Part III

46


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